Kiss to Savor
by drekadair
Summary: After having its-not-sex-its-an-emergency with Pritkin, Cassie is having trouble controlling her libido around him. Is it just a result of her pent up feelings toward him, or is something else going on? Lots of smut! Part of the Dawnseeker Sequence.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: part of an ongoing series I'll be slowly working on. This part takes a few liberties with the timeline: it is set between the last and the second-to-last chapters of _Curse the Dawn_. In _Dawn_ this appears to be only a matter of hours, but I have expanded it to several 'll find a longer note from me at the end of the chapter explaining about the Dawnseeker Sequence.

**Warning**: Be careful! This is full of spoilers—you have been warned! Also, this is rated M for a reason. If you don't like reading about sex (though I can't think why you wouldn't), hit the 'back' button now.

**Disclaimer**: However much I wish I could own Pritkin and make him my sex slave, everything—including Pritkin (alas!)—belongs to Karen Chance. Lyrics belong to Sleepthief.

* * *

**Kiss to Savor**

The Dawnseeker Sequence, part eleven

_A kiss to linger  
Your kiss I savor  
You're like no other  
Your kiss I savor_

**Chapter One**

We arrived at Dante's to find the casino living up to its name. The posh lobby, where we appeared, looked largely unscathed, but several chairs were overturned and one wall was marked by a wide, ugly burn, like someone had thrown a fireball at it. There was no one inside, but through the wide glass doors I could see masses of people crowding the sidewalk and the blue-and-white flash of police lights. Many of the people wore pajamas and slippers, and a few held crying or half-asleep infants: the tourists who had been evacuated by the "bomb threat." I didn't envy whoever was in charge of hiding this mess from the norms.

The empty stillness of the room was unnerving. I kept looking over my shoulder, certain someone was behind me. Pritkin must have felt it too, because he slid his hand to the place where his under-the-arm holster usually was. Of course it wasn't there, since when he'd put it on this morning he'd been in my body.

I fumbled with the straps, trying to give the holster back to him, but my fingers were clumsy with exhaustion and I couldn't get the buckle undone. Pritkin took my shoulders and turned me so he could do it. I could feel the warmth of his fingers through the light material of my blouse, which was odd, because his fingers were usually cool. The buckle rested just above my left breast, and I was suddenly all-too aware of the closeness of body, the nearness of his lips, of how I wanted his hands to slide just a little lower....

The buckle clicked open and he slid the holster of my arm and began adjusting the straps so they would fit him again. I swallowed and distracted myself by finding all the knives he had hidden in my clothes. By the time I'd located all five he had the holster on. He'd lost the drag queen cape somewhere—on purpose, I was sure—and looked as Rambo as ever, even if he was wearing only a fraction of his arsenal.

I looked nervously around the lobby as he strapped on the knives and tried to ignore how blood and sweat had glued his hair into grungy punk-rock spikes, and how my fingers itched with the desire to run through them.

"Do you think the battle is over?" I asked.

Pritkin drew his gun and aimed it at the ground in a ready position. "Perhaps," he said. "Or perhaps they are still fighting in the ley line." He began crossing the lobby. I followed close behind him, feeling very exposed in the big, empty room.

We were halfway across when one of the elevators dinged. Pritkin shoved me behind him and raised the gun before the doors were even halfway open. His shields were up, but they looked weak and flimsy, and I really, really hoped that whoever was in that elevator was on our side.

Casanova stepped into the lobby. He immediately focused on Pritkin's gun, but then he saw me and a look of relief spread over his face.

"Thank God," he said, hurrying towards us. The three vampires in the elevator, who I recognized as hotel security, hung back a cautious distance, eying Pritkin warily. Casanova reached for my arm as if he was going to drag me off, but Pritkin knocked his hand aside with a quick, violent motion. Casanova glowered, but didn't try to touch me again.

"Come on," he said, gesturing impatiently instead. "Where have you been? Lord Mircea is in the penthouse, he's been worried sick. We thought you were dead!"

He sounded frazzled, and he looked frazzled. His tailored suit was torn in several places, there was a smear of blood on his sleeve, and a few strands of hair were out of place. I followed him back to the elevator, marveling that Mircea had been worried enough for Casanova to notice. As we crammed ourselves into the elevator—the six of us were a tight fit—I said, "What do you mean, you thought I was dead? Mircea has a tracking spell on me!"

"They don't function properly inside ley lines," Pritkin said, sounding muffled. He was somewhere behind me, but I was wedged in too tightly to turn and look at him. "And the combined power of Apollo and vortex may have caused it to stop working altogether."

"Oh." The thought that Mircea had been concerned, even upset by the thought of my death, was both flattering and a little alarming.

No one spoke as the elevator rose. When we stepped out into the hallway at the floor below the penthouses, I saw two of the golden-eyed masters standing guard at the elevator that lead to my old penthouse—not the Wild West-themed one. I looked at Casanova. "I thought the Consul was using that suite," I said.

"I don't know where the Consul is, but she's not here," he explained shortly. "And Lord Mircea wanted a room."

One of the masters reached for the doorknob, but before he could even touch it the door flew open. Mircea stood in the doorway. His dark hair was wet, as though he had just washed it, and he was dressed in a thin silk robe that showed every contour of his body. He didn't look like he'd just had a long relaxing bath, though. His mouth was tight and there were lines between his fine brows. When he saw me he stepped forward, his lips parting his relief, but then stopped and looked between me and Pritkin.

"It's okay," I said quickly. "We switched back."

He muttered something in Romanian that might have been "Thank God," and wrapped his arms tightly around me. I pressed my face into his chest and inhaled his clean pine scent, feeling the tension drain out of my body. One hand cupped the back of my neck and the other brushed up and down my spine as his lips whispered across my hair.

I tilted my face so I could see his eyes, and for a moment they were filled with some raw, wild emotion. He covered his display of vulnerability by kissing me, sweet and slow and tender. His tongue darted between my lips and caressed me with long, sweeping strokes. I groaned into his mouth and leaned against him, letting my body melt against his. I slid my hand across the silk of his robe and a nipple tightened under my palm.

Pritkin cleared his throat.

I jumped, but Mircea tightened his hold on my neck and deepened the kiss, taking my tongue between his teeth and grazing it with his canines. He only released me when my head was swimming with desire and lack of air. Then he turned a hard, golden glare on Pritkin. "Is there something you need, Mage Pritkin?" he asked curtly.

I twisted in Mircea's arms so I could see Pritkin. His eyes met mine, and something frighteningly similar to the feral hunger I had seen in the security room passed behind them. It was gone so quickly I wondered if I had imagined it.

"No," he said shortly, looking away. "Good night, Lady Cassandra."

I was so confused by his abrupt goodbye that I only managed, "Good night," before he turned away. Brusque was certainly his style, but he never called me "Lady Cassandra," and it wasn't like him not to rise to Mircea's bait. I worried that he might be hurt, or still suffering from his leg, but I didn't have a chance to call him back. Mircea pulled me into the suite as the elevator doors opened, and both doors closed simultaneously, cutting me off from Pritkin.

Mircea steered me to one of the sleek blue Scandinavian-style sofas and then went to the shining wood-and-brushed-steel bar. Glass chinked and I said quickly, "I'm sorry."

He turned around, holding a glass in each hand. He handed one to me and sat next to me on the couch. "Sorry for what, Cassie?"

His nearness made my skin prickle, but I resisted the urge to throw myself into his arms and kiss him until he tore my clothes off. For one thing, he'd called me "Cassie," which meant he was upset with me; for another, I was so tired I was afraid I would just fall asleep the instant I hit the mattress.

"For making you worry," I explained.

He sipped his drink. I took a large swallow, hoping the alcohol would clear my head. The glass was full of whiskey, neat, and it burned all the way down my throat to my toes. I felt warmer, which surprised me because I hadn't realized I was cold.

"I thought you were dead," Mircea said simply. "The tracking spell stopped working. I prayed that it had simply been removed, but when we couldn't find you...." his voice trailed off and he raised slender fingers to brush my bruised and bloody cheek.

I closed my eyes and savored the feel of skin on skin, filled with a strange and almost painful joy. I'd known what I felt for Mircea for a long time, but I'd had trouble imagining what a centuries-old vampire would see in me. There had been times when I'd wondered whether Mircea was simply acting on orders from the Consul. But this... this was real. I may not know what he felt for me, but at least I knew he cared. The thought made my head swim.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "We ended up out in the desert and I was too tired to shift us back, so we had to rest for a while."

"The desert?" Mircea echoed.

I had to tell him the whole story, from the kidnapping of Jesse and the others by the Circle to the destruction of Apollo. By the time I finished I was so tired my vision was going blurry and my head sagged onto Mircea's shoulder. He had only interrupted once or twice to ask questions; now he picked me up and carried me into the bedroom.

"You never fail to amaze me, _dulcea__ţă_," he said softly. "Killing a god single-handed—!"

"It was the rakshasas," I mumbled. My eyelids felt like they had weights on them. "And Pritkin helped."

Mircea said nothing, but I could imagine him scowling at my mention of Pritkin. I couldn't actually see his expression because my eyes had closed and I couldn't open them. I could see something else, though: a silvery haze that drifted towards me. The darkness behind my eyelids was filled with glowing silver light and wave of emotions and feelings washed over me, so many and so fast that I could not identify any of them. Then I felt a soft mattress beneath me and I was gone.

* * *

I woke to find sunlight streaming in through the windows. Someone had adjusted the curtains so none of it fell directly on the bed, but the room was filled with light. I blinked sleepily at the brightness of it and tried to remember what had happened. It came back to me slowly, and in no real order: the ship crashing into the side of Dante's; Apollo torn to shreds by the rakshasas; the wild car ride through the ley lines; Pritkin's black, hungry eyes staring down at me as his body trembled above mine.

This last memory made me realize that there _was_ a body pressed against me. For a wild moment I thought it was Pritkin, but then I got a hold of myself. Of course it was Mircea. One of his arms was draped over my waist, our feet were tangled together, and I could feel his steady breathing against the nape of my neck.

I closed my eyes and savored the feel of his presence. He must have undressed me after I had fallen asleep, because I was wearing a silk negligee instead of my torn and bloody jeans and blouse. His thumb began making small circles against my waist, and it was like the fabric wasn't even there. I felt drowsy and content, and I really wanted to just lie there lie there for an hour or so. Unfortunately, I could feel patches of dry blood flaking off my skin, my hair was a filthy mess, and I _really_ had to pee.

"I have to get up," I mumbled, and scrambled out of Mircea's embrace. As I stumbled across the plush carpet I discovered a few dozen bruises, scrapes, and stiff muscles I hadn't noticed the night before. I shut the bathroom door with a groan and turned on the shower to get the water hot while I dealt with my other problem. Steam clouded the mirror, so I thankfully couldn't see how bad of a mess I was as I tossed the negligee to the tiled floor and fell into the shower.

I was carefully washing suds out of my hair—my shoulders screamed in protest every time I moved them—when Mircea stepped into the bathroom. I hadn't bothered to lock the door, and I didn't really mind, since he wasn't wearing any clothes. Morning sunlight from the bedroom silhouetted his beautiful body and made his skin glow.

I opened the shower door so he could come in. Water cascaded over his chest, soaked into his hair, and ran in gleaming rivulets down his face. I tried not to stare, but I guess I didn't succeed, because Mircea laughed softly and drew me against him. Watered trickled between our bodies, tickling my stomach and breasts. He buried his face in my soapy hair and moaned gently.

Suddenly I wanted him so badly I could barely breathe. I slid my hands up his slick skin, feeling water run through my fingers, and gripped his hair just hard enough to make him growl. I forced his head back and trailed a line of kisses down his jaw to the place where a vampire would bite. My mouth closed over his skin and I felt his pulse jumping against my tongue. I bit down, hard.

He pulled my head away and repaid the favor, scraping his canines against my pulsing skin. One hand was tangled in my hair and other dragged manicured nails down my back and buttocks, pushing me against his growing arousal. I whimpered into his ear, needing him inside of me more than air, more than water. I tried to tell him that I needed him _now_, but I couldn't manage a coherent sentence. He understood, though, because he laughed again, a deep, pleased sound. But instead of pushing me against the wall and _taking_ me like I wanted him to, he pushed me down onto the shower bench. His hands nudged my knees apart and he knelt between my legs.

He started at my left knee and kissed his way up, slowly and deliberately. His eyes, now burning gold, watched me closely, savoring the expressions of pleasure and frustration on my face. I felt suddenly confused, as though those eyes should be a different color, but then his mouth closed over me and I lost all ability to think. His tongue was everywhere, sliding through my slick folds, plunging inside of me, stroking that one spot over and over until I clutched his shoulders so hard my fingernails drew blood. Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he was there, pushing inside of me in one long, deep stroke.

I could feel the rhythms of his thrusts from my toes to the top my head, each pulse of pleasure coming in time with our heartbeats. Energy built between us and poured through my veins like golden fire. I could taste him on my tongue and in my blood, and when he climaxed a heart-stopping moment after I did, he called my name hoarsely.

We slid to the floor of the shower, clutching at each other for support. Water cascaded around us; the suds had long since been washed out of my hair. Mircea cupped my chin in his hands and gazed into my face. I met his cinnamon eyes and felt a stab of—discontent? Disappointment? Dislike?—and immediately felt confused.

Mircea caught my emotion. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

I pressed my face against his chest and felt the water twine around us. "No," I said, not sure whether I was lying or not.

* * *

**Author's Note, Continued:** I don't know if all the rest of the chapters will be this long, but I do know updates will be irregular. Please be patient, and give lots of reviews!

Regarding the Dawnseeker Sequence—have you ever had a song that you heard for the first time while doing something very memorable, and so for the rest of your life (or at least a long time afterward) whenever you hear it you think of that time? I tend to do that with books. So I happened to get my hands on a certain CD at the same time I bought the first three Cassandra Palmer books. That CD was _The Dawnseeker_ by Sleepthief, and whenever I listen to it I think of Cassie.

So I thought, why not write a series of glorified songfics? Each one is based off a song from the CD—this one is track 11, "Kiss to Savor." I won't be posting them in order, and there may be large gaps between each story, but I hope you'll enjoy them.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: I realized, after finishing the last chapter, that Cassie should have been wearing the rainbow jumpsuit, wig, and fire engine-red heels she put on as a disguise instead of the sandals and drawstring-neck blouse she—or rather, Pritkin—was wearing at Marsden's. I'm too lazy to fix it, so you'll have to forgive me.

**Disclaimer:** Pritkin and every aspect of his world still belong to Karen Chance (lucky woman). I'm just borrowing them for a little fun (heh, heh).

**Kiss to Savor**

The Dawnseeker Sequence, part eleven

_Searching, I hear it call me  
Knowing it's you I hear  
The sweet embrace of you near_

**Chapter Two**

I spent most of the day in bed, resting, but by the time the sun disappeared behind the towering casinos I'd had about as much rest as I could take. Mircea had left almost immediately for his court in Washington state to play host for the visiting consuls, saying he would be back in a day or so. Rafe, who was healing well, had spent hours visiting me, and I had gone down to the makeshift hospital to visit Marco. I hadn't seen Pritkin, but I wasn't sure whether that was because he was avoiding me or because Mircea's guards wouldn't let him in to see me.

I found out the next morning, when someone started pounding on the door to the suite. I knew that knock as well as I knew the voice of the person knocking.

I raced to the door and flung it open. Pritkin and two of Mircea's golden-eyed masters were trying to kill each other. They rolled around on the plush carpeting, accompanied by Pritkin's swearing, and I saw the flash of a knife. Pritkin scrambled free, clutching the bloody knife, and the two masters came to their feet facing him. One of them was holding his own severed hand. Blood dripped onto the carpet.

"Stop it, all of you!" I shouted.

Pritkin hesitated in the act of pulling a tiny glass bottle out of his potion's belt. The vamps, spotting the little vial, tensed. I threw myself between them before they could start fighting again and glared angrily at the vamps.

"Did Mircea tell you to keep him away from me?" I demanded.

They didn't do anything so obvious as shuffle their feet or even exchange glances, but I thought they might be a little unsure. The one who wasn't holding his own hand said, "No."

I waited, but he didn't elaborate. "Why did you attack him, them?"

"He is a mage," the vamp answered. He said it as if it were a perfectly obvious explanation.

I pictured Pritkin's face becoming steadily redder behind me and said quickly, "He's a _friend._ He can see me whenever he wants. Don't attack him again!"

The vamp with severed hand had pressed his hand against the stump. It seemed to be healing back together. "He is a mage," he echoed stubbornly. "He cannot be trusted."

I felt Pritkin take a step forward. I took a step back, found his foot by touch, and stepped on it very hard. He was wearing sneakers and I was barefoot, so I don't think it hurt, but he got the point. I heard his mouth shut with a snap of teeth.

"_Friend_," I repeated firmly. I turned to face Pritkin, forgetting that I was still standing on his foot. His bright green eyes were only inches from mine, and our noses were almost touching. I suddenly realized that I was still wearing the short silk camisole and lace-trimmed panties I had slept in—and nothing else. I could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric. I shivered.

He hastily stepped back. I realized he was dressed for our morning workout in gray sweats and a dark green T-shirt. He didn't usually wear his potions belt when we exercised, but I guess he thought he'd need the extra firepower to get me away from the vampires. He eyed my outfit, and without thinking I shifted my weight to side and arched my back, showing off my hips and breasts. When his eyes darkened I realized what I was doing and quickly straightened.

"Get dressed," he said shortly. "We're going jogging."

It was a sign of how desperate I was for _something_ to do that I didn't even argue. Thankfully, most of my luggage had survived the fight unscathed, so I was able to throw on the baggy sweats and ratty tank top I wore when Pritkin wanted to torture me. Convincing the two vamps to let me go off alone with Pritkin was less quick, but I finally managed it by pointing out that we wouldn't even be leaving the casino, and that Pritkin had not only saved my life dozens of times, but had had ample opportunity to kill me during the past month. They let us go, but only grudgingly.

Half and hour later, I was beginning to wish they hadn't. Pritkin seemed determined to make me run until I died of exhaustion, forcing me up and down flights of stairs and through service corridors. When we reached the disused conference room we'd appropriated as our gym, I didn't even try to stay standing. I dropped onto the floor in a wheezing, sweating, shaking pile. Pritkin stood in front of me and crossed his arms disapprovingly.

"You're in terrible shape," he said conversationally.

I glared at him. "Killing me won't improve it!" I gasped.

He grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. "You won't die," he said. "We're going to work on hand-to-hand."

I was pretty sure that if we started working on hand-to-hand I _w0uld_ die, so I tried to pull out of his grip. My struggles had no affect at all.

"This is precisely why we are doing this," Pritkin said, towing me to the middle of the room. "This is a weak hold. You should be able to break it easily."

"That's not fair!" I protested. "You're stronger than I am!"

"And so are most of your enemies!" Pritkin retorted. He looked angry, though I couldn't think why. He left me in the center of the big room and dragged two of the mats from the far end. I didn't offer to lend a hand, partially because I didn't see any reason to help tie my own noose, and partially because I could barely stand.

At his impatient command I took off my shoes and stepped onto the mat. He did the same and we faced each other, standing a few feet apart. I bent my knees and raised my hands, echoing his ready position. My knees wobbled a little.

Pritkin stepped gracefully to the right. I did the same, keeping my eyes on the center of his chest. As tempting as it is to meet your opponent's eyes, Eugenie had taught me that you should always watch his torso to see what his next move would be. The only problem was that the center of Pritkin's shirt was plastered to his chest by sweat, revealing the strong lines of his pecs, ribs, and abs, and it was really distracting.

While I was busy remembering how good all those muscles had felt under my hands, Pritkin took a deceptively smooth step forward and swung his fist at my head. I ducked outside of the blow and grabbed his wrist as it flashed by. I planted my other hand above his elbow and twisted him into an arm bar.

Or tried to. He turned in my grip and aimed another blow at me. I was forced to scramble backwards to avoid a broken nose. I overbalanced and fell heavily on my butt. Pritkin lunged at me. Since I was down anyway, I wrapped my legs around his calf and scissored them, sending him sprawling face-down on the mat. Before he could get up again I flung myself onto his back and grabbed his ankle in one hand and his neck in the other.

He tried to throw me off, but I shoved his face into the mat and pulled on his ankle until his knee was bent at a painful angle. He grunted and I let up—a little.

"You let me win," I accused him.

"I was going on easy on you," he agreed. "A good thing, too. You were very sloppy."

Before I could say anything, he threw off my hold and pinned me to the ground, my wrists captured above my head and my waist straddled by his knees. I jerked and pulled, but I couldn't break free, and I was too exhausted to shift. I was suddenly furious with him, for being such an arrogant bastard, for keeping so many things secret, for having sex with me and then acting like nothing had happened. I wanted payback.

So I did the only thing I could think of. Since his face was too far above mine, I leaned forward and grabbed the front of his tee with my teeth and pulled up while grinding my hips against his. His expression was so shocked I almost laughed, but I was too busy trying to pull up his shirt with just my mouth. Luckily the fabric was damp with sweat, so it didn't slide back down easily. I finally got it up high enough for me to run my tongue across his skin. His grip on my wrists slackened. I wrenched my hands free and hit him as hard as I could.

He sat up and glared furiously at me as he rubbed his jaw. I called him a few of his weird British swearwords and scrambled out from underneath him, breathing hard. He jumped to his feet and took a menacing step forward. I feinted to his left and dodged to his right, trying to slip around him, but he wasn't fooled. He caught me around the waist and threw me to the ground as though I was a rag doll. In a smooth motion he straddled me again and wrapped one hand around my neck. The other hand was raised in a fist.

I fisted my fingers in his hair, wrenched his face down to mine, and kissed him. His hand tightened around my throat, out of surprise, I think, but he quickly let go and move hand to cup the side of my face as he returned the kiss. It seemed like every time I kissed him I forgot how... intense... it was. His mouth was hot and needy, his lips oh-so-soft as his tongue slid inside me. I arched against him, and he felt both familiar and new, as though I knew every inch of him but also knew there was more to find. His body softened above me, melting warm and hard against mine.

When we broke for air my hands were still buried in his hair and his palm was still pressed against my cheek. We stared at each other, panting, and his look of surprise mirrored mine. I hadn't meant to kiss him like that, but now that I'd started, I couldn't seem to stop. I drew him back down and nibbled gently on his lower lip. When he sighed in pleasure, I increased the pressure until I was almost drawing blood. He moaned, but then said, "Cassie, I don't think—"

"Be quiet," I ordered, and turned his head so I could kiss my way along his neck. I found the spot I knew he liked best, just above his collarbone, and sucked on the skin there until he moaned and pushed me away.

"Cassie," he panted. "We can't—"

"Yes, we can," I breathed. I remembered vaguely that there was a good reason why we shouldn't be doing this, but I couldn't recall what it was. What seemed far more important was the taste of Pritkin's skin, sweet and salty and good, the soft, silky texture of his hair, and the hard warmth pressing against my stomach. I ran my hands down the faint indentation of his spine, pulled up the edge of his T-shirt, and stripped it off him.

Or tried to. He kept his arms firmly down, keeping me from pulling the shirt over his head. I swore and seized it in both hands, but he caught my fingers in his.

"No," he said firmly. "You are not going to rip my shirt, and we are not going to have sex."

I raised his hand to my lips and began sucking on his fingers meaningfully. His pupils dilated and his eyes slid a little out of focus. "No," he repeated, but his voice was weak and not at all certain.

"_Yes_," I whispered enticingly. He had sat up, but I pulled him back down and kissed him again. He returned the kiss with even more passion than before, sweeping his tongue across mine over and over until my vision blurred and my body trembled helplessly. I moaned into his mouth and tugged at his shirt again. This time he lifted his arms and I pulled the sweaty cotton over his head.

The feel of his sweat-slick skin hot under my hands was almost enough to drive me over the edge. I dragged my tongue across him, tasting him, finding a little peach nub to graze with my teeth, while he fumbled with the hem of tank top and the clasp of my bra. I had to give up kissing him when he moved his hands and mouth to my breasts because I couldn't concentrate. He caught one nipple in his teeth and pulled just hard enough to make me gasp, while his calloused thumb ran lazy circles over the other nipple.

Frantic for more, I slid my hands lower. There was no button or zipper to stop me; I pulled loose the bow on the drawstring and pushed the sweatpants off his hips. He wasn't wearing underclothes, as usual, and his arousal slid free of the cloth into my hand. He was too large for me to wrap my hand around completely, but I closed over him anyway, and ran a finger lightly over the slit at the tip of him.

He twitched and gave a startled cry of pleasure. When he lifted his head from my breast, his eyes were dark and fever-bright. "Cassie, what—" he shivered as I moved my hand up and down, just a little "—what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're trying to get yourself killed."

I blinked, suddenly remembering _why_ we weren't supposed to be doing this: it was all too likely that Pritkin would lose control and drain me. But I somehow _knew _that that wouldn't happen, not now, at least.

"I'm not afraid," I told him honestly. "I trust you."

His eyes were full of desperate need and his body was tense against me, but he said, "I don't. We can't risk it."

"Yes," I insisted. "We can." And to prove it, I rolled us over so I was on top. He looked startled, and then horrified as I knelt between his legs and kissed the tip of his arousal. When I'd been in his body I'd thought, half-hysterically, that he had a pretty dick. I found that my assessment hadn't changed now that I was back in my own body. He was dark and pale peach, long and thick and velvet-soft. I knew from experience with Mircea that the skin was softest on the balls, but unlike Mircea's, Pritkin's were lightly furred with dark gold hair. Since I didn't want to pick hair off my tongue, I settled for kneading gently between his legs with one hand while the other stroked up and down his shaft and my mouth closed over his head. Soon he was moaning and clutching at the mat, his head thrown back and his eyes half-closed. Each time I slid my mouth down, he lifted his hips slightly, thrusting into mouth. I had never seen him lose control like this, and it made me feel powerful to think that I had done it with just my hands and mouth.

He was too long for me to take all of him into my mouth, but after I'd tried a few times he gave a strangled cry and grabbed my shoulders. Suddenly he was sitting up, and I was kneeling over his lap, our faces millimeters apart and our chests brushing. I lowered myself until he was pressed against my opening, but he caught my hips and stopped me from continuing.

I glared at him and opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off by kissing me. When he pulled away, his eyes were full of hunger and a fierce, wild sexuality I had never seen before.

"Can you shift?" His voice was hoarse with need. Sweat was running out of his hair and down his chest.

"What?" I gasped in disbelief.

"Just answer the question! Can you shift?"

I had caught my breath from the run, or maybe I had just got my second wind. "Yes," I said.

"Are you sure you want this?" He looked almost frightened, as if he were afraid I would say yes but needed me not to say no. I thought of the bottled-up feelings towards him I had felt for a month, and all the times we had been so close, but had never taken the final step. I said the only thing I could.

"Yes."

He closed his eyes and gave a whimper that was part pleasure and part pain. "Then promise me, _swear_ that if I lose control, if I hurt you—if you are in any danger at all—you will shift away." He opened his eyes and looked at me, his expression frantic.

"Yes," I said again. "I swear."

"Thank God," he gasped, and drew me down onto him.

It felt almost like he was too large to fit. I moaned in pleasure as my body stretched to accommodate his length and width. He buried his face into my damp curls and thrust his hips upward. I braced my knees against the floor and rocked against him. With each movement spike of pleasure flooded my stomach, and soon I was sobbing with the need that built beneath my navel. Pritkin cupped my buttocks, his blunt nails digging into my skin. He made small, desperate, almost pained sounds. I couldn't understand why, until I realized he was fighting the urge to feed.

I tipped his face up to mine. His eyes were almost entirely black, and were filled with hunger and fear. I stroked my hands through his hair.

"It's alright," I whispered. "Let go. I promised, remember?"

A shudder ran through his body, making me gasp in pleasure. "Please," he gasped. "Don't let me hurt you."

A chill breeze ran over my body like a hand, cooling the sweat on my skin and making me shiver in pleasure. Pritkin moaned, deep in the back of his throat, and an expression of blissful relief passed passed over his face. His eyes were completely black now, without a trace of green, but I wasn't afraid, though I thought, in a distant sort of way, that I should be. His thrusts came faster, and I felt myself begin to lose control as well. I could taste him like sweet, cool water pouring down my throat, could feel him flooding through my veins and pulsing in time with my heart. Pleasure welled up inside me until I couldn't take it anymore, and my world exploded in lights and colors and sounds that I couldn't even begin to describe. Pritkin thrust shakily into me twice more, then shuddered again and again as he pressed his face against my shoulder and cried out in pleasure.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN**: So, originally, every chapter was supposed to have a big sex scene in it, but something went wrong here. Sorry! I promise I'll make it up to you ;) Lots of thanks to SenceLess, SynethesiaTastesGrey, and MsTuri for reviewing. If you read but didn't review, what's wrong with you? REVIEW, DAMMIT!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of this, however much I wish I did. I promise that I will make no profit from this, that I will return the characters to their proper owner when I am done with them, and that when I do they will have nothing worse than some bruises and a few rope burns.

* * *

**Kiss to Savor**

The Dawnseeker Sequence, part eleven

_Spring night descends it's sweetness on me  
This late night stroll leading  
With one thought on my mind_

For a while I lost track of who was feeling what. It was like our bodies and minds had somehow melded together. I could feel every shudder that wracked his body, every surge of pleasure that ran through his veins, as clearly as I could feel the pleasure that spiked up my own spine. I could feel what my own energy tasted like as he drained it from me, warm on the back of his tongue and burning hot through his veins. When we finally separated, I felt almost hollow and empty, as though something precious had been taken away from. But the aftershocks of pleasure that ran through me were enough to wash the sensation away.

As we lay panting in each others' arms I slowly remembered that we were lying on a mat in the old conference room. I also remembered other things, like what Mircea would do if he found out. Yet somehow it all seemed insignificant compared to the sound of Pritkin's ragged breathing and his slowing heartbeat.

He stirred suddenly and sat up. He leaned over me, eyes concerned, and I saw that his pupils were back to normal. "Cassie?" he asked anxiously. "Are you alright? Cassie!"

"I'm fine," I murmured. The afterglow was like a drug, drifting through my veins like liquid gold and making me drowsy and content. Pritkin studied me closely for a moment, and then started laughing. I stared at him in absolute disbelief. I had never seen him laugh before. After a moment, he began crying as well. He doubled over, laughing and crying hysterically, while I wondered if I should slap him or something.

I settled for grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. "Pritkin? What's wrong with you?"

He pulled me against him and kissed me. It was just as wild and fierce as ever, but the hunger was gone, and it was slower, deeper, more leisurely than I had ever felt from him.

"You're alright," he said when we broke apart. He was grinning like an idiot, and I thought it looked good on him. "You're alright! I didn't hurt you! I thought—I thought I would never be able to touch anyone again. And now—" He kissed me again—and again... and again...

* * *

My cell phone woke me out of a blissful sleep. I groped blindly for the nightstand, my eyes gummed shut. When I finally got them open, I saw that I had been searching on the wrong side of the bed. I rolled over and sort of swam through all the sheets to snatch up the phone. I had no idea what time it was; sunlight was streaming in through the windows, but there were no clocks in the suite and the little display on my phone showed "Incoming call: Mircea" instead of the time.

I stared at the phone for a minute as it hit me—really hit me—that I'd cheated on Mircea. I felt sick and guilty. I loved Mircea, and even if he didn't love me he at least cared about me. How could I have done this to him? How could I have done this to us? And what about Pritkin? Mircea would kill him—or worse—when he found out. The thought of anything happening to Pritkin made my mouth go dry.

I flipped open the phone just before it went to voicemail. "Hey," I said, trying to make my voice as natural as possible.

"Hello, _dulcea__ţă._" Mircea's voice was smooth and dark, utterly seductive. I shivered despite myself.

"Sorry I took so long to pick up," I said quickly, trying to cover the confusion of emotions tangled in my chest. "I was asleep." I couldn't understand why his voice made me crave him when I desired Pritkin. But if it was Mircea I wanted, why was I sleeping with Pritkin?

"Long night?" he asked innocently.

My heart almost climbed out of my throat. How did he know? One of the masters must have found out, told him. I closed my eyes, breathed in slowly through my nose—and realized that he didn't know. He was just teasing me.

"Yeah," I said drily, trying to calm my racing heartbead. "This place is just thrilling. No, I was taking a nap because I had nothing better to do."

"Your boredom will not last much longer," he told me. "Mage Marsden and I have set the date of your confirmation for next month."

"Next month," I repeated numbly.

"You don't sound very happy."

"I never wanted this in the first place," I reminded him. "And... I guess it all just feels so sudden. A little over a month ago I was just some clairvoyant on the run from a vampire hood. And now a month from now I'll be Pythia. And all this craziness will be over."

"Not over," Mircea said gently. "Once you are Pythia, you will simply have a different kind of 'craziness' to deal with."

I sat up and dangled my feet over the side of the bed. "Don't remind me."

"Don't worry. I will be there to help you."

Even if you found out I'd been sleeping with Pritkin? I wondered. Maybe he would. I was certain the Consul was trying to control me through him, and she might order him to continue his relationship with me. Maybe he would do it of his own accord. Maybe he was willing to turn a blind eye to any infidelity on my part for the sake of the power I brought.

"Cassie?"

I stood abruptly, feeling slightly ill. "Yeah?"

"You are very quiet. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," I said again. I switched the phone from one ear to the other and walked aimlessly around the room. "I'm just... worried."

"Don't be," he said soothingly. "Everything will be fine."

After he hung up, I held the phone in my hands and stared sightlessly out the window. Las Vegas looked like any other big city during the day: high, featureless buildings surrounded by crowded sidewalks and even more crowded streets, and over everything a gray haze of smog. Only at night did it look bright, shiny, glittering.

I couldn't understand what was going through my head. How could I feel so strongly for both Pritkin and Mircea? Maybe it wasn't so strange, I thought. Love wasn't like a switch you turned on or off. It made sense that I would still care for Mircea even though it was Pritkin I really loved.

Something clattered right in front of me and I jumped, staring around wildly for the source of the noise. I finally realized that the phone had slipped from my hands and fallen to the floor. The concrete floor. I had somehow walked out onto the concrete balcony without noticing.

I picked up the phone and saw it was 10:50. Washington was an hour behind Nevada, so Mircea would be going to bed soon. I, on the other hand, was just getting up. Would it be like this when I was Pythia, us permanently out of sync, only seeing other at dawn or at dusk? My stomach twisted with unhappiness.

I went inside and changed into my swimsuit

* * *

An hour later one of the golden-eyed masters stepped through the glass doors into the sunlight. He flinched, but knelt beside my deck chair anyway.

"The mage is here," he said, sounding sullen. "Would like me to send him in?"

I sat up quickly. "Yes!" Belatedly, I realized I shouldn't sound so eager, but the master was already gone into the darkness of the suite.

I followed him in, wrapping a towel around my waist as an improvised sarong, but had to stop just inside while my eyes adjusted to the dimness. As I waited, Pritkin strode into the room, dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt, with a leather jacket thrown over his collection of weapons. He stopped suddenly when he saw me, then took a few more steps forward, cautiously.

"We need to talk," he said shortly.

His tone did not bode well for whatever we were discussing. "About what?"

"What do you think?" he snapped.

My eyes slid past him to the door that led out into the entry hallway. It was closed, but I knew the masters could hear everything we could say, and would report all of it to Mircea.

"Um, let's not talk about it here," I said, giving him a significant look. "Give me five minutes to shower and get dressed and we can go downstairs." I retreated to the bedroom without waiting for his reply.

I had only been sunbathing, so I didn't need to wash any chlorine out of my hair. I hesitated in front of the closet, a fresh towel wrapped around my chest. I had no idea what to wear. I was not usually a flashy dresser; jeans and a nice blouse were my go-to outfit. I wanted to dress up a little for Pritkin, but I was pretty sure he wouldn't like anything outrageously feminine or impractically fashionable. I settled on a light blue sundress that brought out the color of my eyes and a pair of bright strappy sandals.

When I stepped back into the main room, I got exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. The dress showed just the right amount of leg and chest. Pritkin's eyes swept up and down my body, and he licked his lips in slow, unconsciously sensual movement. I swung my hips a little as I walked toward him, enough to look sexy but not enough that he'd notice I was doing it. The blue dress was perfect, I thought, smiling into his hungry eyes. It made me look bright and fresh, like a spring morning. I knew the innocent look appealed to him.

"Okay," I said. "Let's talk."

Dante's had a fancy dress-up-and-sit-down restaurant (vampire-themed, of course), but it also had a more casual café-style restaurant that served coffee and sandwiches. We tucked ourselves into a corner table so Pritkin could watch the entrance. I'd missed breakfast, so I ordered a salad and sandwich to go with my iced mocha. Pritkin, of course, had coffee.

"What's up?" I asked between bites.

"What we did yesterday was wrong."

I chewed carefully. "Why do you say that?"

Pritkin looked incredulous. "You don't think it was wrong?" he demanded. "How can you—"

I held up my fork to cut him off. "I do think it was wrong. I just want to hear your reasons. You might have thought of something I didn't."

He didn't smile at my joke. I guess I hadn't expected him to. "I neither like nor trust vampires, especially your Mircea, but that does not mean I enjoy cuckolding him."

"He's only a cuckold if we're married—which we're _not_."

Pritkin looked pointedly at me neck. "I was under the impression that, under vampire law, you are."

I pressed my hand against the base of my neck and felt the two little bumps Mircea had given me. It was a mark Mircea had not asked me about, a mark that claimed me as his as though I were some inanimate object to be possessed.

"I am not a vampire," I said angrily. I put down my fork with a loud clatter and took a large bite out of my sandwich. "And he never bothered to ask me before he 'married' me."

Pritkin stared at me curiously. "You wish he had not marked you?"

I opened my mouth to answer, and closed it again, confused at the rush of conflicting emotions that rushed through my head. "Yes! No. I don't know. I just don't know, Pritkin. I care about him a lot. But I care about you, too."

I stared at him across the table. We were so close I could have reached over and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him to me, kissed him. The urge was so strong I clenched my hands in my lap, because despite our nearness I felt like there was an enormous gap between us. Something was wrong; why didn't he want me the way I wanted him?

Prtikin looked at me with his green, green eyes, though his expression said he wanted to look away. "I care for you as well, Cassie. But I don't I want to be the other man. I think... I think you should give this some thought."

I lowered my eyes so he wouldn't see my pain. When I'd worried about the consequences and future of what we were doing, I had known Mircea would be a problem. But I had never considered Pritkin would drag his feet. What was wrong? Why didn't he want me the way I wanted him?


	4. Chapter 4

**AN**: This was supposed to be the second-to-last chapter, but due to wordiness I had to add an extra chapter. So... you have two more delicious Pritkin-filled chapters left! A big thank-you for the people who reviewed for the first time last chapter. I hope to hear from you again, and from some more new people as well.

**Disclaimer**: I think you've got the general idea by now: it's not mine, it never will be, and I really, really don't want to get sued.

* * *

**Kiss to Savor**

The Dawnseekeer Sequence, part eleven

_A kiss to linger  
Your kiss I savor  
You're like no other  
You make heaven appear_

I went back to my suite and sulked. I sort of understood Pritkin's position, but I didn't have to like it. When I'd found the photo album full of pictures of a single beautiful woman in Mircea's room in MAGIC I'd been furious—almost homicidal. I still didn't know if he was sleeping with another woman, and the thought of it still made me angry—which was ridiculous, since I was sleeping with another man. But that had been a feeling of betrayal; I felt hurt because I thought Mircea was lying to me. I wasn't lying to Pritkin, and I was pretty sure he knew that. What did he care that I was lying to Mircea? I don't enjoy cuckolding him, Pritkin had said. What this some sort of honor thing, then? Pritkin had always been a sucker for honor, just like he'd always been a sucker for innocence.

I wandered into my bedroom and began rifling through the closet again, more to have something to do than anything else. Sal had made sure I plenty of clothes, most of them so expensive I was afraid to wear them. Wal-Mart used to be upscale shopping for me; all these designer labels left me feeling a little overwhelmed.

Thinking about Sal made my stomach knot. I'd grown to like and trust her. I'd had so few friends I could confide in that it was a real treat to have someone I could indulge in "girl talk" with. But, like so many other things, it had just been a lie. Mircea seemed to blame himself for her death, but I had to wonder. If he'd broken her bond to Tony she would have been loyal, but only because her new bond to Mircea would force her to be.

Something else made my stomach knot: I was hungry again. I stared down at my stomach in annoyance, since I'd had a big lunch not even half an hour ago. I considered calling room service, but then a better idea occurred to me.

Half an hour later I knocked on Pritkin's door. I'd showered and blow-dried my hair so it would look like I hadn't done anything to it, and applied makeup so it didn't look like I was wearing any. I'd changed into a new dress, a black one with a plunging neckline and a short hem that managed to look both sexy and casual at the same time. My legs were just long and shapely enough to pull off the black ballet flats I'd slid into, and the simple gold pendant around my neck drew attention to my tan and my cleavage.

I waited so long for a response that I started to wonder whether he wasn't in his room, or hadn't heard. I'd just raised my hand to knock again when I heard the locks clicking and sliding open. Pritkin stood in the doorway, looking exactly as he had half an hour earlier, minus the coat.

He eyed my outfit with a combination of desire and trepidation. "Cassie..."

"We need to talk some more," I said quickly.

"You don't look like you came to talk."

I didn't deny it, since it was partly true. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

He moved aside so I could enter. His new room was larger than his old one, with a small sitting area attached and a bedroom, but just as messy. Clothes, weapons, what I thought might potion-making materials, and a few paperbacks were scattered everywhere. I was curious to see what Pritkin read in his spare time, but before I could look at the titles he shut the door and came around in front of me.

"What is it?" he asked.

There was a a table with two chairs, plus a sofa, but he didn't sit or offer me a seat. I took one anyway, carefully crossing one leg over the other. Pritkin's eyes focused on my ankles and slid slowly higher. When he reaches the hem of my dress, which had ridden up a little, he swallowed and met my eyes.

"What is it?" he said again.

"I'm going to break up with Mircea," I said, rushing the words a little because I was afraid I would lose my nerve. "He won't like it, and he definitely doesn't like you, but I think he'll respect my choice."

Pritkin watched me carefully. "Cassie, are you sure about this?"

No. Maybe. "Yes. I'll tell him when I see him, whenever he gets back. It... it would be cruel to do it over the phone."

He nodded and finally sat down. I was at the table and he was on the sofa, so there was a lot of space between us. I wished he was closer. I wished I could touch him.

He looked down at his hands. "Cassie... the last person I had a relationship with died." He looked up, met my eyes. "I want this. I want you. But I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't want to hurt you." His face darkened. "In any way."

"You didn't hurt me last night."

"Yes, but I don't know _why_," he said. "And next time, we might not be so lucky. If I don't know what I did right, I don't know how to duplicate it."

"You were married over a hundred years ago, right? That's a long time," I pointed out. "Maybe your control's improved since then."

"Then why did I almost kill you two nights ago?"

"You were wounded," I protested. "That doesn't count."

"This isn't a child's game in which you can arbitrarily decide what does or does not 'count'," he snapped. "What if you're wrong? What if last night was a fluke and—"

I crossed the distance between us in three quick strides and kissed him. I kissed him the way I wanted him to kiss me: hard and intense and hungry. When we came up for air, I whispered into his mouth, "I don't care. I don't care about any of it." I lowered my voice and brushed my lips against his ear. "I just want you to fuck me until I scream."

I almost never swore, and the word had the affect I wanted. He shivered, and his hands came up to rest on my bare shoulders. His palms felt very warm against my skin. I kissed him again and straddled his lap, hitching up my skirt to do so. He slid his hands down my waist and began rubbing them against my exposed thighs.

Our lips met again, and I took control of the kiss, devouring his mouth, biting his lips, stroking his tongue with mine. We fell back against the couch in slow motion, Pritkin supporting the weight of both our bodies with his beautiful abs. I pulled at his shirt, wanting to get my hands on all those muscles, but was frustrated by the multitude of the straps that held his weapons and potions. We both started fumbling with buckles at the same time and just got in each others' way.

Inspired, I slid off the couch and grabbed the front of Pritkin's shirt, pulling him with me. "Come on," I said.

He followed me into the bedroom, looking curious and intrigued. I shut the door behind him, more for effect than for privacy.

"Strip," I ordered.

He took his time, slowly unbuckling each strap and lowering it to the floor, watching me the whole time. It wasn't quite a strip tease, but it excited me because he was making the effort, and he was doing it for _me_. By the time he slowly pulled his shirt over his head, I was breathing heavy. He toed off his boots and let his jeans slide down his hips into a crumpled heap of denim at his feet.

I licked my lips as the sight of him, naked and beautiful and already half-aroused. I stalked toward him, swaying my hips seductively, and pressed one hand against his chest, forcing him to back up. When the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed I shoved hard against his chest. He fell backward with a little startled sound.

I picked up his hold-up-your-pants belt from the floor and knelt on the bed beside him. "Grab the headboard," I told him.

His eyes eyes widened a little as he realized what I was going to do. I waited while he decided whether he would do it or not; it didn't take long. He half-crawled, half-wriggled up the bed so he could reach the headboard, a movement that looked utterly erotic even though it should have looked ridiculous. I wrapped the belt around his wrists and through the slats, leaving him just enough slack to keep his circulation going. He pulled experimentally at the belt, trying to pull loose. I was pretty sure he could free himself with magic, but for now the restraint held.

I leaned over him and trailed my fingers over his body. He gasped involuntarily and shivered beneath my hands. I touched him everywhere: the base of his neck, the silky skin inside his elbows, his nipples and his navel, the inside of his thighs, the backs of his knees, even the soles of his feet. The only place I didn't touch was the place he wanted me to touch the most. I kept my clothes on, to emphasize that he was naked and helpless while I was dressed and in control. By the time I was done he was panting and sweating, and his erection was hard and begging to be stroked.

Only then did I undress. I turned my back so he could see each inch of skin revealed as I slowly unzipped the dress. It slid to the floor with a satisfying hiss of cloth over skin and a satisfying sigh from Pritkin. I unhooked my bra with my back to him, but turned around to take it off. Finally, the tiny black panties came off.

I returned to the bed and retraced my steps with my mouth, licking, sucking and biting everywhere. As I carefully avoided so much as brushing against his erection, he began to moan and pull against the belt, thrusting his hips upward in an unconscious plea. I pretended to ignore his need and finished off by sucking each toe meaningfully.

"Cassie," he breathed. "Cassie, please."

I liked the way he said my name, and I liked that he'd said please, so I had a little mercy on him. I pushed his legs apart and knelt between them, like I had before. Instead of taking him into my mouth, I started by licking his length like a melting ice cream cone. After a little while, I began flicking my tongue against the ridge of skin at his tip, as quick and light as a butterfly's wings. When his moans turned into whimpers I took just the tip of him into my mouth and sucked hard. He gasped and thrust into my mouth, but I pushed down on his hips to keep him in place. I began to move my head up and down, not too fast or too slow, but very rhythmically. The motion was hard on my neck, but I kept going because it was worth it to see his reaction. He alternately stared at me with black, starving eyes and tipped back his head, his eyes closed with pleasure.

Twice, he started to feed, but both times I slid off the bed, punishing him with my distance until he regained control. When he moans became faster and breathier and I was certain he was about to orgasm, I lifted my head. He made a strangled sound of protest.

"Cassie! God—please. Don't stop, don't stop now!"

I hadn't thought I would ever be into roleplaying or bondage, even something as mild as this, but I was finding it to be a lot of fun. Pritkin spend so much time telling me what to do and moving me around like a mannikin that this felt like kinky payback.

"It's your turn," I told him. I crawled up the bed on hands and knees and straddled his head. He knew exactly what I wanted and stretched upward to press his mouth against me. It wasn't easy to hold myself at exactly the right height above him, but after a few seconds I forgot about the protests of my muscles because, _damn_, he was good. I held on to the headboard as a long moan tore itself from my throat.

Pritkin picked up the pace, licking the sensitive little nub, then sucking on it, then plunging his tongue inside me. Suddenly I just couldn't take it any more. I scrambled down his body and straddled his waist. With one hand I reached between us to position him, and then I lower my hips to meet his.

We both moaned, and my body started moving without me having to think about it at all. I closed my eyes and rocked back and forth, my hands spread against his chest. The way we fit together felt so good, so _right_.

I stared into his hungry black eyes and breathed the words I'd wanted to say for so long.

"Emrys, anwylyd."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN**: It's been a long time since I updated—a year, in fact! Thanks to everyone who reviewed in the interim, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter. Hopefully the sixth (and final) one will be along shortly. I'm afraid the ending is probably not going to be what most of you wanted or were expecting. Know that you are not alone; this came out differently than I expected, too ;) There's a longer note at the end of the chappie.

**Warning:** This chapter contains some swearing.

**Disclaimer**: As much as I enjoyed tying up Pritkin in the last chapter, I know I can't keep him. He belongs to Karen Chance, as do all the other recognizable characters in this fic. The lyrics, of course, belong to Sleepthief.

* * *

Kiss to Savor

The Dawnseeker Sequence, part eleven

_My feet assured with every step  
Night air whispers my unsaid  
I'm at your door and I shouldn't have left  
Are you mine?  
I'm closer than I've ever been  
I'm here and I'm leaning in  
With one thought on my mind..._

Pritkin froze underneath me, his eyes wide with shock. "What?" he gasped. "What did you call me?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I had no answer for him. I knew Myrddin Emrys was his real name, but I had no idea why I'd called him that, and I didn't think I could even repeat the second word; it seemed to have too many vowels.

Pritkin muttered something under his breath and the belt slithered loose from his wrists. He sat up, his pupils were rapidly shrinking to normal size, and I scrambled backward to give us both space. I didn't like the look in his eyes. It was calculating and dangerous, a hunter's look—and it was focused on me. It had been a while since Pritkin had looked at me like that, and I discovered that I didn't like it any more now than I did then.

"Slow down," I said, as he stood up. I moved so the bed was between us. "What are you thinking? Because you look like you're thinking something that'll hurt—_me_."

He began to circle around the foot of the bed, which would trap me between the bed and the wall with him blocking my route to the door. I tensed, preparing to dive over the bed, but he beat me to it. We went down in an awkward tangle of limbs, struggling and thrashing in a space not quite large enough to hold us. If I'd had a little more room I might have stood a chance, but in such a small space his greater weight quickly overpowered me. I wound up with my face smashed into the carpet and both hands pinned behind my back.

I twisted my head at a very unnatural angle and saw him reach out a hand and summon a little vial from a shelving unit he'd installed. I lay there, frozen, as it zoomed through the air toward us, and a little voice in my head screamed S_hift! Shift!_ A jolt of adrenaline rushed through my veins, leaving me light-headed, and I shifted. Unfortunately I only made it as far as the other side of the bed, and I accidentally brought Pritkin along with me.

His grip on wrists loosened in surprise, and I didn't wait for him to recover. I started twisting and thrashing and managed to get free, scrambling ungracefully backward on my hands and butt. The vial, unable to alter its trajectory in time, smashed into the wall where we'd just been. The wallpaper began smoking ominously.

Pritkin gathered himself and leaped at me like he was some kind of jungle cat, feet leaving the floor and body stretched horizontally in the air. Using strength and speed I didn't know I had, I dove underneath him. He landed half on top of me, and tried to grab my legs. I rolled onto my back and kicked him in the face, hearing the crunch of bone.

He reeled back with a grunt of pain, and I stared in horror at the blood running from his broken nose. What was I _thinking?_ I couldn't believe I'd hurt him. I couldn't believe I'd fought him at all. Why should I care if he wanted to dump potions on me, if it would convince him I wasn't a threat? I trusted him, didn't I? I felt like I'd been drunk for the last five minutes and someone had poured a cup of strong coffee down my throat.

Drunk, or possessed.

Through a mask of blood, Pritkin summoned another vial and threw it at me. I rolled aside at the last minute, and now that I was paying attention I realized that I had not actually given the order for my muscles to move, nor could I have ever moved so fast on my own. I stood quickly and held my hands out to the side in a gesture of surrender.

"Alright, Emrys," I said, only it wasn't me saying it. My lips moved and my throat worked, but the tone was completely different, lower and huskier than my own. "You win. Can we talk before you banish me?"

Pritkin tensed, his arm ready to throw and his face twisted in a snarl. "No!"

"Not even for an old lover?" I asked quickly.

Pritkin's entire body jerked in shock and the potion vial fell from his hand, dropping harmlessly to the pavement. All the hatred and anger drained out his face, leaving him wide-eyed and empty-looking.

"Avis?" His voice came out in a croak.

My lips curled in a smile against my will. "Yes, Emrys," I said. "It's me."

I moved forward cautiously until I was close enough to touch him. My body was tense, as though expecting him to attack again, but he didn't react. I reached out to brush my fingers against the side of his face, but he stepped back and slapped away my hand.

"No," he said angrily. "I don't know what you're doing, Avis, but you will leave. _Now_."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Fine," I said, and turned and walked away.

"Stop!" He grabbed my arm and spun me around so I faced him again.

"What?" I asked, looking innocently into his flushed face. "Changed your mind?"

His hand tightened painfully on my arm. "Leave Miss Palmer's body," he clarified, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "And then leave us both alone."

I felt a stab of disappointment that didn't make any sense until I realized it wasn't me feeling disappointed: I was feeling the emotions of the thing inside me. That really annoyed me—wasn't taking over my body enough?-until I started to wonder if it couldn't go both ways. I went inside myself, the way I did when I wanted to talk to Billy Joe during a possession, and found her.

She sat, cross-legged and barefoot, among the broken gray stones of what had once been a castle or cathedral. Trees and tangled brambles grew close around the ruin, but among the stones themselves only tall grass grew. A strong breeze bent the stems and ruffled the filmy white gown that was her only garment.

"Avis?" I said.

"It means 'desire'," she explained in a surprisingly low and rich voice, rising gracefully to her feet. Her fair-skinned face was striking and a little exotic, rather than the flawless beauty I had expected. Thick, dark hair fell in gentle past her delicate shoulders, and the curve of her full breasts and slim hips were clearly visible through the thin silk. "I'm sorry about all this," she said, making a gesture with her hands that somehow indicated the possession rather than the ruins.

"Are you really?" I asked doubtfully.

She considered her answer for a moment, drawing together her fine dark brows. "A little," she said, sounding as if that surprised her. "I much prefer possessing those who are willing. It is far more... satisfying." After a moment, she added, "Also, Emrys loves you. I'll admit, that makes me jealous, but I know better than to hurt what he loves." She gave a throaty laugh. "I am not as stupid as Rosier."

I was keeping up pretty well until she got to the last part. Pritkin? Love me? "Oh, no," I began.

"Well, enough chat," she interrupted briskly. "I have another conversation to carry on." And she and the clearing faded away, leaving me staring out of my own eyes at a very pissed-off Pritkin.

"Are you sure you want me to leave?" Avis was asking. "After all, I can give you what you want."

Pritkin laughed humorlessly. "All that I desire, and at no cost except my soul?" he mocked. "Don't waste your lies on me, Avis. You can give me nothing."

Avis tilted my head and looked coyly up at him through my eyelashes. "Not even Cassie?"

Pritkin jerked back as if she'd hit him. His eyes widened in shock and understanding. "You bitch," he breathed. "You fucking _bitch_. It was you—you made her sleep with me."

I don't think I'd ever seen him so angry, and I'd definitely seen him when he wasn't at his best. If Avis hadn't been in my body, he would have killed her. His whole body shook with rage and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

And Avis loved it. It took me a moment to realize what I was feeling from her, because it didn't make any sense. Sure, I provoked Pritkin all the time, but I almost never did it on purpose, and even less often did I enjoy it.

"Okay, that's it," I told her silently. "You're sick, and you're leaving." I didn't like the pleasure she took in tormenting Pritkin, I didn't like her using my body for her own ends, and I didn't like that she'd forced me to sleep with Pritkin and cheat and Mircea, and probably destroyed my hard-won friendship with Pritkin in the Process. I wasn't sure I could actually kick her out, but I was damn well going to try. I mentally prepared myself, and felt a twinge of fear come from her.

"Wait!" she said aloud. "You love her," she continued, and I knew she was speaking to both me and Pritkin. "And she loves you. I can help you. You can't have her without risking her life—but I can protect her if you lose control. You can be together!" Her voice became desperate toward the end, because Pritkin's face was still set on "kill".

"_We_ can be together, you mean," Pritkin said sourly. "That's why you came, isn't it?"

Avis hesitated, and so did I. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Pritkin was so rabid in his hatred of demons, I just couldn't imagine him being lovers with one.

But then, I thought, people change.

"And why shouldn't I?" Avis asked carefully. "What we had was beautiful. Why shouldn't I want it again? Why shouldn't you?"

"What we had was a lie," Pritkin snarled. "We had _nothing_."

"Nothing?" Avis echoed incredulously. "Nothing? When I offered you companionship, friendship, that was nothing? And when I held you, when the pain was too much, that was nothing? And what we felt together, when we made love, _was that nothing?_"

Her voice rose to a shout at the end, and I thought the stubborn hatred on Pritkin's face faltered for a moment. But his mouth hardened and he said coldly, "Nothing. I know what you are, now."

"And what am I?" Avis asked, her voice dangerously soft now.

"Liar," he spat. "Seducer. Corrupter. _Demon_."

She moved suddenly, throwing my body across the space that divided us and him. His arms came up instinctively to block an attack, but my arms were already wrapped around his shoulders, my body pressed against his. He grabbed my shoulders to push me away, but my lips closed over his in a passionate, burning kiss.

Avis had centuries—or more—of experience in kissing, and she used every one of them when she slid my tongue into Pritkin's mouth. Seemingly against his will, Pritkin returned the kiss fiercely, almost painfully. His hands softened on my shoulders and his body melted against mine, and even though I knew it wasn't me he was kissing, I felt my body respond to his touch.

We broke apart, wide-eyed and gasping for breath. "Was that nothing?" Avis gasped, and her voice shook with feeling.

She really loved him. I don't know why that surprised me so badly, but it did. I could feel the force of her emotion as clearly as if it were my own: she loved him. Not some kind of shallow puppy love, or a sex-fueled obsession, but real love. And I could see from the expression on Pritkin's face that he knew it, too.

He stood motionless in my arms, his expression stunned and almost childishly helpless. Slowly, he lifted his hands from my shoulders and cradled my face between them.

"Avis," he whispered, and his voice was so gentle, his eyes so tender, that I was completely knocked off balance. This was a side of Pritkin I had never seen before, a side of him I hadn't even known existed. Desire and longing radiated off him, and I felt a rush of joy from the succubus inside me. She thought she'd won, but in her own desire she'd missed what I hadn't.

Sorrow.

He dropped his hands away from my face and stepped back, shaking his head slowly.

"No," Avis said, realizing too late what was happening. "No—Emrys, you believe me, why—? No, no, please, Emrys..." She reached after him, my fingertips brushing his chest helplessly. "Why...?"

"This isn't Hell," he said, his voice flat with suppressed emotion. "I won't let you steal Miss Palmer's or anyone else's life to be with me."

"Don't you understand?" she said desperately. "She loves you. She wants to be with you! This is the only way she can have you—"

"And you think she is willing to give up her freedom, her life, _everything_, just for a roll in the hay?" he demanded.

Avis said nothing, because we all knew the answer to that. I could feel her angry stubbornness as she struggled to find a way out, a loophole, but there was no way she could stay without turning Pritkin against her.

"I think this is the part where you give up and leave," I told her silently.

"Leave? Maybe," she answered. "But I won't give up. He will outlive you, Cassandra Palmer—and so will I." I caught a glimpse of full lips curving into a smile and dark hair tossed over a slender shoulder. "I am patient. I can wait."

"Very well," she said aloud. "Although I think a roll in the hay with you is worth anything, I admit that she might not. And since you care so much for her, and I so much for you, I will do as you ask. But," she added, "I want something to remember you by, while I wait."

"Wait?" Pritkin repeated.

"For you to come to your senses," she explained serenely.

The corner of Pritkin's mouth twitched, though I wasn't sure whether he was frowning or smiling. "Go," he told her. "And don't wait."

She kissed him, sweet and gentle and full of emotion where before she had been fierce and hungry. Pritkin returned it with interest, and I was so caught up in the silky, slightly chapped feel of his lips on mine that I didn't even notice when Avis left—leaving me and Pritkin alone, naked, and still kissing.

* * *

**AN, continued:** Clearly, this fic was started before HtM came out, otherwise Pritkin would not be having sex with anybody. I started this story after reading CtD, and was working with the idea that Pritkin might not have had any non-demon partners before he married, which would imply that he lost his virginity in Hell. Info revealed in HtM and in Q&As with Ms. Chance have made it clear that this was not the case. Although this renders my humble little fanfic quite obsolete, trying to change it is out of the question, so read it with the care and consideration you would give a very old person or a pretty but useless antique ;D


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